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I’ll hope no more For things that will not come; And if they do, they prove but cumbersome. Wealth brings much woe; And, since it fortunes so, ‘Tis better to be poor Than so t’ abound As to be drown’d Or overwhelm’d with store.

Pale care, avaunt! I’ll learn to be content With that small stock Thy bounty gave or lent. What may conduce To my most healthful use, Almighty God, me grant; But that, or this, That hurtful is, Deny Thy suppliant.